Without Her
by ghostlights
Summary: She was dead. And it was all his fault.


**WITHOUT HER**

**WARNING! Character death. But it's not what you think. Really.**

Disclaimer : Nothings mine except the spider. Great..

His office was a dark cool sanctuary for the moment, door shut and blinds drawn down.  
'Like a tomb' Grissom contemplated from his chair, hating his thoughts but torturing himself with them anyway.  
From the dim recesses of his space the signs of life coming from outside seemed even farther away than usual and he was glad because to have them closer would have felt like a mockery.

She was gone.  
He hadn't been careful enough and now she was dead.  
It was _all_ his fault.

Never again would he have her where he could see her whenever he wanted, read her the interesting little facts that caught his eye, be able to watch the mesmerising movement of her long legs or, in his more quixotic moods, try to name the shades of brown in her hair.

The force of her loss struck him like a physical blow to his solar plexus and he drew a deep sigh. The week without her felt like it had lasted forever and he hated the capricious nature of time.  
Twelve years had never seemed a particularly long time to him, not least when he had her with him, here at work where he could see her everyday, but now he was struck with just how inadequate it was. Time is short, he got that now. In the most intimate and painful of ways.

A soft knock at his door pulled his gaze upwards, as Catherine displaying an uncharacteristic regard for the social rituals of entering private spaces stuck first her head and then the rest of her body around the door frame.

"Hi, Gil." Her voice was slow and soothing.

"Catherine." His own was resigned and distant.

"Look, I just want to say.." She broke off, cocking her head to the side as she regarded the tired sad man in front of her.  
"I know I never really took to her, but I know you cared a great deal for her and I'm really sorry Gil. I really am. And you know, if you ever need to talk..."

He shook his head. "Thank you Catherine, but that's not necessary, really."

He tried to reassure her over the sceptical glance she threw his way. "I think I just need to be alone for a little while."

"I think you spend too much time alone as it is."

The tall blonde let out a sigh. "Look, just don't forget that there are people out there who care about you ok? If you need _anything_ you can always talk to us."  
And with that she made her retreat, under no illusions as to the efficacy of her talk.

p>

The next night he stopped by the break-room just long enough to hand out assignments, unhappily taking in the empty space where Sara should be sat before retreating to his office.

He didn't intend to torture himself with these thoughts and feelings but he just couldn't help it. She was dead, it was his fault, _he_ caused this.  
The dark thoughts ran in a continuous loop and he knew that he deserved all the mental torture he could gather from it.

p>

He had finally pulled some sheets from the top of his in box in a half-hearted attempt to appear to be working when a tap on his window caught his ear. Despite himself, he still smiled when he saw his visitor sticking their head around his door.

"Hey, Griss," she offered with an embarrassed smile, as she came fully into the darkened room. In her hands she held a white cardboard box and he was almost curious as to its contents.

"Sara." He gestured to the chair in front of his desk but she placed the box in front of him and perched on the edge instead.

"I'm sorry I'm late, traffic was hell.. but, well, I heard about your loss." Sara's voice was low and apologetic as she gestured loosely to the box in front of her. "And, uh, this is for you." Her nose had gone pink in the way that always gave away her embarrassment to him.

Set on his desk, Grissom studied the plain box carefully. It looked like it could carry a cake but the few air holes punched in the top assured him that it didn't.  
"You can open it, if you like, just carefully." Sara offered as he looked up at her expectantly.

Opening the lid only a little, he peered inside and couldn't help but smile at the small fuzzy spider that occupied one of the farther corners of the box.  
"Ahh, Grammostola rosea, a Chilean Rose Hair." He watched the little tarantula do nothing for a few minutes more before he closed the lid and glanced up at Sara who appeared to be preoccupied with the edge of her shirt.

"And a very nice specimen at that."

At his words Sara looked up, relieved not to see a scowl.

"She's not a replacement Griss, I would never.. but she's only a baby and I have a friend who though she might need a good owner." She smiled encouragingly as he considered her words.

"Sara…"

He sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe I am not the person best suited for the task."

And his voice was so almost sad that Sara felt a swell of affection rise in her chest for the man in front of her. She moved around to his side and knelt to face the box.

"Grissom, I can honestly say I can't think of anybody more suited to the task."

She placed her hand on his arm.

"Oscar was an accident Griss, tragic, but not a comment on your abilities as an owner. You weren't to know she had escaped and you weren't to know that that lab tech would react so badly to her. It wasn't your fault."

She could see a flicker of indecision in his face. He wanted this spider. Anyone would have seen the look of absolute glee that had filled his face in the few seconds before he realized _why_ he was looking at a new spider.

"If you really don't want her Grissom, I'll take Rosie back. But you should know I wouldn't have brought her here if I didn't know you are the best owner she could wish for."

"Rosie? You gave her a name already?" A softness had entered his voice and Sara did a mental victory dance.

"Just a provisional one. Her owner can choose another one I guess." She made to stand up and Grissom looked at her with half concealed anxiety.

"Are you taking her now?"

Sara brushed off her knees. "Well, really I have a B and E I should get to first." She looked thoughtful. "I don't suppose you could watch her? Just for this shift and I'll come by and get her before I leave this morning."

Grissom stroked the edge of the box gently.

"I could do that."

He looked up at the empty terranium that sadly occupied the shelves just right of his desk.

"Maybe I could put her in the habitat. Keeping her cooped up in this box for so long would be cruel."

"I think Rosie would like that very much Grissom."

Grissom moved to the lower part of the shelving and picked up a bag of ground substrate mix and layered some in the tank. Then he moved to the fridge and from the back pulled something out and placed it in too.

"What was that?"  
Sara was suddenly over his shoulder, as she always was when he had something interesting.

"A pinkie."

She gave him a blank look.

"A very young mouse."

Her look morphed to disgust.

"I will never complain about your experiments being in the communal fridge ever again if that's the alternative."

Finally he picked up the box and placed it in the tank with the lid open to let the spider climb out on her own without being shocked.  
They stood and watched but the tarantula apparently prefered her corner and they moved away.

p>

"Rosie?" His voice held a snort of amused scorn.

"What? That's her name." Despite making a valiant attempt at keeping the amusement off her face, Sara was smiling widely.

"I swear, Ms Sidle, you know how to play me far too well."

"It's not my fault that you harbour a well documented weakness for ladies of the arachnid persuasion."

They smirked at each other before Sara moved away. "Better get going or all my evidence will be gone."

Grissom moved back behind his desk, resolved to finishing his paperwork. As much as he hated to admit it, Sara had managed to make him feel much better. She had a handle on him and the thought wasn't as uncomfortable as it had once been. He watched her head to the door.

"Sara"

"Yeah." She turned her head only slightly.

"Thank you."


End file.
